


Nurse Fernandez

by mskatej



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/pseuds/mskatej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike gets hit by a car. By Harvey’s car. While Harvey is driving it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nurse Fernandez

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks go to my lovely and clever beta, [silveronthetree](http://archiveofourown.org/users/silveronthetree/pseuds/silveronthetree) without whom this story would not make much sense.

Cycling and talking on his cell phone at the same time is something Mike won’t do if he can help it, but he’s late and Harvey is calling him, so against his better judgement he brakes, stops and answers it, only to be told that he had better be there already, waiting for Harvey, with Harvey’s coffee in hand.

Great. Harvey’s mood hasn’t improved since last night, when he made Mike stay at the office so late doing research he missed a date with Jenny. And while there’s no reason for Harvey to care that Mike hasn’t gotten laid in two and a half weeks, sometimes Mike thinks Harvey deliberately jeopardizes his social life out of pure spite.

So Mike starts peddling again, gripping the handlebar with one hand, his phone with the other, promising Harvey he’ll be there on time even though he doesn’t see what the big deal is; they’re totally ready for the Bishop meeting. Which isn’t what Harvey wants to hear. After a short, menacing silence, he calmly tells Mike that if he’s even a minute late today he’ll be fired.

“What the hell?” Mike says, taking the next corner at break-neck speed, and swerving wide because it’s difficult to steer one-handed.

Mike blames Bishop’s lawyer: a friendly, good-looking sociopath named Robbie, who plays dirty and who has an alarming knack for rattling Harvey, but still. Is it really necessary to threaten Mike’s career at this hour of the morning? He can barely hear Harvey over the wind in his ears and the traffic – Harvey, who’s still talking at him about how he needs to change his attitude if he wants to be a great lawyer, and other Specter clichés that Mike has been both listening to and willfully ignoring on a regular basis for the past year, and which he would have recited along in unison with Harvey at that moment had he been in a more insolent mood. Then Harvey says something about “fucking pedestrians” and Mike realizes he’s not the only one running late and that Harvey is driving himself to work for once, which makes Mike singularly determined to beat Harvey to their meeting place on the street outside Pearson Hardman.

“Stop barking at me, I’m literally thirty seconds away,” -- the home stretch is upon him, he peddles faster, races through an amber light and glances aside just in time to see the looming bonnet of a large black car--

THWACK.

…

The noise of the city seeps its way slowly into his head, a throbbing pain in his side, a presence next to him, his name on somebody’s lips.

…

He’s in a hospital, disoriented. Someone shines a light in his eyes, asking him if he knows his name and who the president is, followed by a brusque order for him to stay awake, and then he’s alone in the room; through the window he sees Harvey outside, pacing the corridor, talking on his phone and looking agitated. The right side of Mike’s body feels like a giant bruise, but he’s able to move, shifting a little, testing his extremities by wiggling toes and fingers. He’s fine; he’s clearly fine and should not be taking up room in a busy hospital full of actual sick people.

Oh, fuck, his head. He touches the source of the pain and his fingertips come back with a few flaky brown specks on them. He blinks up at the ceiling and contemplates his concussion.

It’s not that bad, he decides, shutting his eyes for a minute or so and psyching himself up to get out of bed and leave.

His feet are on the floor and he’s dizzy, but it’s no worse than being high other than the throbbing pain in his temples; he can walk, and he will walk. Where are his shoes?

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harvey barks from the door of the room.

Mike stares at him, confused, wondering what Harvey’s doing at the hospital with him. “How long have we been here?”

“Not long,” Harvey replies, like Mike is completely stupid. “We need to make sure you’re okay; now go sit down.”

Mike can’t remember anything that happened after breakfast... this morning? “What time is it? What day is it?”

Harvey strides towards him and peers into his eyes. “You tell me.” He looks behind him, out into the empty hall. “Where the hell did the doctor go?” then back at Mike, waiting for an answer.

“...Tuesday?”

Harvey nods and looks relieved. “It’s Tuesday, right, yes. Do you remember what happened?”

Mike wants to respond to that question but his brain isn’t being remotely helpful, and it freaks him out. He’s used to remembering everything and now he can’t remember the last... how many hours? “What time is it?” he asks again.

“11am,” Harvey says. “You were in an accident a few hours ago, but you’re fine. You’ll be fine; no serious injuries, a little bump on the head - why weren’t you wearing your helmet? It doesn’t matter, no harm done, you didn’t even need stitches.” His smile is a little brighter than normal.

Mike doesn’t remember being in an accident. “What happened?”

Harvey takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, and his eyes have a look in them Mike hasn’t seen before - like that of a child who’s been caught stealing from the cookie jar but who isn’t used to being caught, ever.

“Harvey, what happened? Why are you here?”

Harvey takes his time to respond, looking off into the distance with narrowed eyes, as though contemplating whether to answer Mike’s questions. Finally, he says, quite matter-of-fact: “I hit you with my car.”

Mike is stunned. So stunned he nearly topples over, but Harvey steadies him with a firm hand on his arm.

“You hit me with your car,” Mike repeats, not quite believing it. And yet... Harvey’s here, at the hospital on a Tuesday morning, Mike is concussed, it’s highly likely that Mike would have been cycling to work a few hours ago, to meet with Harvey for their morning coffee, and Harvey _is_ a reckless driver -- so --

“Oh my God, you hit me with your car,” Mike says, annoyed that he can’t remember it. He’s going to hold this one over Harvey for a long time to come but it would be so much sweeter if he knew the details.

“Let’s not be melodramatic,” Harvey says, but Mike can detect something in his voice that sounds a lot like guilt. Or perhaps Mike looks particularly pathetic right now, because then Harvey mutters, “I’ll make it up to you,” which nearly makes Mike smile. He needs to lie down.

Harvey’s telling him to stay awake, holding him up and maneuvering him towards the sofa in his room, sitting down next to him, presumably to give Mike something solid to lean on. His eyelids droop.

“Mike!” Harvey snaps his fingers in front of his face.

“I’m awake. Hey, can you take me home now? It must be late. It feels late.”

“It’s 11.30 in the morning, tough guy. And we’re not going home. Where the goddamn hell is the damn doctor? Nurse! Hi.” Mike can hear the smile in Harvey’s voice, but his eyelids are too heavy to stay open and find out how pretty the nurse is. “Where is Doctor Ormiston?”

There’s a response from the pretty sounding -- Puerto Rican? -- nurse but it isn’t interesting to Mike so he just lays his head on Harvey’s shoulder and lets himself drift off...

“Wake up, Mike, come on.” Harvey’s hands are on his face.

“Don’t wanna.”

“I know.” Harvey’s voice is so gentle it could put a meth-head to sleep. His hands are soft and -- _not_ soft.

“Did you just--?"

Harvey is nodding and looking pretty pleased with himself. “I had no choice.”

Mike’s eyes are wide open and his cheek stings like hell.

“You suck,” he tells Harvey. Harvey doesn’t deny it.

The day moves forward in a blur: there are pretty nurses, distracted doctors, paperwork (taken care of by Harvey), waiting, nodding off for seconds at a time until Harvey, watching him like a hawk, shakes him back awake; there are fizzy caffeinated drinks, pretty nurses, Harvey conducting business over the phone and being sarcastic and very Harvey-like, except that he hasn’t left Mike’s side all day; there’s Ray driving them home, but not to Mike’s home -- instead he ends up being led into Harvey’s fantastic penthouse apartment that Mike sometimes dreams about; there’s a black, leather couch, black coffee, Harvey sitting next to him with a very serious expression on his face.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you this evening - you can go to sleep in a few hours but for now you need to stay awake.”

Mike smiles and nods at Harvey, and says, “Okay. I like that you care about me so much. But isn’t there something else you have to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Really?” Mike raises his eyebrows. “I’m surprised. I can think of at least one thing I’d definitely want to say to me were I in your shoes. Yeah, one thing in particular springs to m--”

“Stop talking. Fine. I’m--” Harvey stops, huffs a little, irritated. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ran you over with my car. It won’t happen again.”

Worst apology ever but totally worth it. Mike beams at him. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

“Well done,” Mike says, reaching over to put a congratulatory arm around Harvey’s shoulders. Only he’s too far away and Harvey doesn’t budge so Mike climbs up onto the couch and shuffles over, but his balance is still wonky and he miscalculates the distance between them, falling onto Harvey with such force that Harvey topples backwards and Mike lands on top of him, giggling.

“Get off me,” Harvey says pushing ineffectually at a completely leaden Mike.

“Can’t move, no energy.” His nose is buried in Harvey’s neck. “Wow, you smell great,” he says, inhaling deeply. “Whoa, head rush.”

Harvey has summoned enough strength to disentangle himself and push Mike in the opposite direction until he’s nestled against a firm cushion at the other end of the couch. “Try not to move,” he says dryly, standing up. “More coffee?”

“Sure.” Mike’s eyes are sore, his body is sore, his head is sore, and he can’t shake the sleepiness that has been enveloping him all day. He’s sure he’ll be just fine if he falls asleep but he is enjoying, in a vague way, Harvey’s attention on him, so he’s determined, again in a vague way, to remain awake -- not so much to set Harvey’s mind at ease, because God knows he doesn’t deserve that, but so he doesn’t miss out on one second of said attention. Mike can’t imagine Harvey has ever played nurse in his life so this really is a special day that must be savored, and besides, a guilty conscience rather becomes the prickly sonofabitch. Christ, is it hot in here?

He has no clue where his tie is, nor does he care, but he struggles out of his shirt, kicks off his shoes and tugs off his socks. He’s seriously considering ditching his pants too, when Harvey returns with his coffee.

“Yes, make yourself at home,” Harvey tells him, the tone of his voice and set of his mouth at odds with his welcoming words. “Mike. Are you okay?”

“I’m really hot,” he whispers, dizzy and drenched in sweat. He lies back and stares at the ceiling, breathing hard, willing the nausea to pass. Harvey vanishes again but soon returns with a cold, wet facecloth, which he presses firmly to Mike’s forehead, cheeks, chin, throat.

“You haven’t eaten anything all day, you have low blood sugar. No wonder you nearly fainted.”

“Passed out,” Mike mutters. “Chicks faint, men pass out.”

“Okay, princess, whatever you say. I’ll order us some food.”

Mike looks forward to pizza but is instead served a dish full of green and yellow and red things, healthy things, chickpeas and spinach and tomatoes and wild rice and other indeterminate vegetables that he’s probably read about but certainly never attempted -- or been tempted -- to eat. It tastes better than it looks though, and Mike guesses that food like this is the reason Harvey stays so trim.

After Harvey has cleared away their plates Mike reclines on the long black couch, Harvey settles opposite him in the matching armchair, and Mike considers asking Harvey to put on the television -- does he even have a television? -- but then decides against it, instead carefully arranging his tender head on Harvey’s super cool black and white cushion and allowing himself to daydream about pretty nurses wearing skimpy underwear in awesome apartments with handsome bosses who take care of his every whim. He knows his eyes are barely open but Harvey doesn’t say anything, so Mike checks on him and finds Harvey staring at Mike’s arm intently. Mike follows his gaze and sees the various darkening bruises, reminding him how sore he actually is. His left hip and thigh are particularly sensitive. He unbuckles his belt, pulls down his fly and, ignoring the cough coming from across the room, pushes his pants down so he can check the bruises on his leg.

“Wow, that one’s huge,” he exclaims with delight, pointing out the enormous purple blotch on his upper thigh to Harvey. He doesn’t mind the pain of the bruises but there’s a cut on his calf that still stings like hell. Pushing his pants all the way off, he pulls his leg up toward his face and inspects the dressing closely. “I wonder what it looks like under there.”

“Leave it alone,” Harvey orders, unmoving, eyes fixed on Mike. Then he thrusts his chin at him. “What were you thinking about just now?”

Mike squints at Harvey. “Why do you want to know?’

Harvey just smirks, looks away and doesn’t respond.

“Fine, I won’t tell you.”

“Rachel?” Harvey guesses, looking back at him. “Jenny? Nurse Fernandez?”

“Nurse Fernandez,” Mike repeats, just to find out what it feels like to roll her name around on his tongue. “Nurse Fernandez,” he says again because it’s fun to say.

“You liked her then,” and Harvey’s still smiling that secret little Harvey smile of his, the one that means he knows something you don’t. Mike really hates not being in on the joke.

“She was okay.”

“By any chance were you thinking about what she looks like naked?”

It’s only then that Mike realizes he has an erection, and that his dick has been hard -- and clearly visible beneath his boxer shorts -- since his Nurse Fernandez in the Apartment with Harvey fantasy.

Embarrassed, Mike shuts his eyes, smiles sheepishly, and covers his lap with both hands. “It’s possible.”

“I don’t blame you. Keep your eyes open.”

“Don’t worry, I’m too humiliated to fall asleep.”

Harvey chuckles. “I don’t mind. Daydream away, just don’t make a mess on my couch.”

Mike raises a dubious eyebrow. “You don’t mind?”

“I hit you with my car, Mike. Feel free to take all your clothes off and writhe around like a stripper if that’s what you want to do.” That sounded a lot like a dare to Mike, and he’s not quite sure how to interpret Harvey’s smile, which has an encouraging tilt to it.

“Tempting,” Mike replies. “But no, my stripping days are over and I’m really just trying to put all that behind me.” His dick is still rock hard beneath his twitching hands. “If you really want to make it up to me you could just blow me.”

Harvey’s eyes widen but he doesn’t stop smiling. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You can blow me and I’ll pretend you’re Nurse Fernandez,” Mike says, waggling his eyebrows.

“See now you’re just insulting me.”

“Aw,” Mike says. “Would you prefer I not imagine another woman while you’re sucking my dick?” This conversation shouldn’t be turning him on as much as it is, but he’s really warming to the idea of Harvey going down on him and the fact that Harvey hasn’t declined yet, or revealed himself to be even the least bit offended, makes Mike think it could, unlikely though it is, actually happen. God, he’s really hard. He clenches his groin muscles with a quiet grunt and presses his fingers into his aching cock.

Harvey is eyeing Mike steadily, index finger crooked at his lips. His eyes slip down towards Mike’s crotch. “Take it out,” he says.

Mike stares at Harvey for as long as it takes for him to decide he’s being totally serious, which isn’t very long at all, and then he reaches into his shorts and pulls out his dick, wraps his hand around the base of it and holds it away from his belly for inspection. Harvey’s throat moves as he swallows and his tongue sweeps out over his bottom lip. “You _are_ excited,” he observes. “Are you still thinking about Nurse Fernandez?”

Mike shakes his head, gulping. He’s not thinking about much at all right now, other than how much he wants to put his cock into Harvey’s mouth. He strokes himself a few times and sighs at the rush of pleasure. His body is getting steadily hotter, so he pulls off his undershirt, and pushes his boxers down and off. Harvey did say it was okay, after all, and taking all his clothes off in front of him is, for some reason, intensely arousing.

Harvey sits there, still as a statue, watching.

“Are you going to?” Mike asks, glancing down at his cock and then back up at Harvey, fist moving up and down.

“Am I going to what?”

“Oh God, you’re killing me.” Mike arches off the couch, pushing his entire body towards Harvey in an attempt to entice him over. “Please,” he hears himself say. “I want you to suck me.”

“Wouldn’t you rather Nurse Fernandez were here to suck you?”

“No I want you.” He’s so worked up he might come soon. “Harvey, I want you to suck me. Please. You owe me.”

Harvey is standing, Harvey is moving towards him, Harvey is sitting on the edge of the couch, facing Mike and prying Mike’s fingers from his cock. “I owe you, do I?” he says, and there’s more than a hint of contempt in his tone. “Does that mean if I suck your cock we’ll be even?”

Mike pushes his hips upwards, trying to get his dick closer to Harvey’s mouth. “Yes, yes, we’ll be even. Oh please. Please.”

Harvey responds with a short, chilly laugh, his narrowed eyes searching Mike’s face and hand hovering over Mike’s erection but not making contact.

“Say please again,” he says.

“Pleeeease.”

“Say my name.”

“Harvey. Harvey please. Please do it.”

The feather light touch of Harvey’s finger trailing down the length of Mike’s erection causes Mike to buck up with a gasp, but then Harvey moves his finger away and grips Mike’s left thigh in his hand until Mike is calmer, panting, and gazing at Harvey in desperate awe.

And then Harvey lowers his head. Before he takes Mike in his mouth he looks up and makes eye contact. Mike feels more awake than he’s ever felt in his life, nodding at Harvey, about to burst with lust and impatience, and then he watches, riveted, as the head of his cock is enveloped by Harvey Specter’s lips. Watching, watching, as the entire length disappears into the wet, warm cavern of Harvey’s mouth -- Mike groans long and loud -- Harvey’s clever, beautiful, perfect mouth.

“Oh god oh fuck Harvey. Fuck me that feels… Jesus…” He can’t stop babbling, but seriously, how is Harvey so good at this? Has he done this before? The suction is incredible and God he’s handsome, lips stretched around Mike’s cock, a lock of hair falling loose over one of his eyes, hand wrapped around Mike’s rigid shaft, jacking him at the same time he sucks. “Oh fuck yes, fuck yes Harvey, keep doing that.” Mike starts thrusting upwards into Harvey’s mouth and Harvey just takes him deeper inside, never losing his rhythm, soaking his dick with spit, and the smell of sex reaches Mike’s nostrils and makes him-- “Uhhh, I’m gonna come I’m gonna come in your mouth, Harvey, so if you don’t want that to happen you should stop. Oh Jesus _fuck_ oh God Harvey honestly I‘m gonna fuck you so hard after this ohgodohgodoh--” Mike stops, gasps, _comes_. The intensity of his orgasm causes him to lose control of his hips, shoving his cock right into Harvey’s throat, body quivering with pleasure.

It takes a while for Mike to come down from his orgasm, but he soon begins to feel the dull pain of his bruises and head injury returning. It occurs to him that it’s a little weird that he’s lying on Harvey’s couch buck naked, damp skin sticking uncomfortably to the leather, with Harvey sitting next to him fully clothed, staring at him while he wipes semen from the side of his lip with his thumb.

“Now we’re even,” Harvey says with a cool smile.

“Thanks,” Mike says. “That was amazing. I’ve never come so quickly from a blowjob before. Was that your--” he frowns, not knowing quite how to put it.

Harvey raises his eyebrows. “Was that my... first blowjob?”

“Yeah.”

“None of your business.” Harvey stands up and that’s when Mike notices he has his own unattended to erection.

“Harvey,” Mike says, feeling suddenly guilty. “Do you want to...”

“No thanks. Like I said - we’re even.”

“What are you talking about? I’m happy to return the favor.”

Harvey sneers at him. “That wasn’t a favor, that was sex.” And with that, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

Mike leaps up and promptly falls back down onto the couch. Damn concussion. His second attempt at standing is more successful, and then he follows Harvey into his stupidly stylish bedroom. Harvey is standing at the window with his back to Mike.

Mike limps over to him and puts his hands on Harvey’s waist, presses up against his back and kisses the side of his neck. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Mike murmurs, tugging Harvey’s shirt out of his pants and slipping his hands underneath. Harvey’s skin is burning hot and he shudders when Mike’s hands make contact. “You’re kinda sensitive underneath that cold, heartless exterior, aren’t you.”

Harvey spins around. “Oh, you’re gonna mock me now? The guy who just had the best blowjob of his life?”

“I’m not mocking you,” Mike assures him, reaching up and fingering the collar of Harvey’s shirt. “I’m just letting you know that I’m open to--” he pauses, for effect “--returning the favor.”

Harvey looks momentarily outraged but then he flattens his palm on Mike’s chest and steers him backwards until the bed hits the back of his thighs. He gives Mike a fast shove.

“Ow,” Mike yelps, hitting the bed with a painful thump. “Be careful. Invalid over here.”

Harvey stands next to the bed, staring down at Mike, breathing hard as he unbuttons his shirt. “Turn over,” Harvey says.

Oh shit. Mike’s never done anything like this with a guy before. The occasional blowjob, sure, and one time he fucked a gay friend of his who happened to be pretty as hell, but catching? He wants to keep having sex with Harvey -- who is definitely one of the most attractive people he’s ever met – and he’s still horny as fuck, and God, oh wow, Harvey is so… but this is...

“Are you scared?” Harvey asks him when Mike still hasn’t moved. He’s wearing only pants now, and he’s unbuckling his belt, and it’s obvious there’s no way to back out now, not that Mike would, not after that blowjob, not with Harvey in such a desperate state. “Don’t be. I’ll be gentle.”

Mike nods. It’s true that he’s a little scared, but if it were going to be with anyone... “Okay, it’s just. I’ve never--”

Harvey's eyes widen and he hums with appreciation - apparently Mike’s ‘virgin’ status only excites him more. He’s naked and his dick is pointing straight at Mike, stiff and intimidating.

“Oh man, you’re really big.”

Harvey grins. “We’ll use lots of lube,” he says, which doesn’t reassure Mike one bit.

He turns over onto his stomach and crawls up the bed, and then he buries his face into one of Harvey’s pillows. “Just remember you promised to be gentle.”

There’s a naked body next to him, fingers combing through his hair, warm sweet breath on his face, soft, low voice in his ear. “Come here,” and he turns his head to find Harvey looking at him with hooded eyes and parted lips. Mike leans into a wet, hungry kiss, and the longer it goes on the more aroused he feels. “You like that?” Harvey murmurs against his mouth. “You getting hard again?”

“Yep,” Mike says.

“Christ you’re young.” Harvey takes Mike’s hand and guides it towards his cock, which feels hot and hard and big in his fist. He likes the way he can make Harvey hiss with just a firm squeeze. He really likes the way Harvey’s hips seem to have a mind of their own, thrusting faster and faster until Harvey claps a hand down on his wrist to still him.

“If you want me to be gentle you might not wanna get me quite so worked up,” he tells Mike, panting hard, leaning in to kiss him. “Let me touch you for a while.”

Mike nods and rolls back onto his stomach, spreading his legs. The pleased sound Harvey makes causes Mike to tremble.

“You are very pretty,” Harvey whispers right into his ear, warm, dry hand stroking his back. Mike sinks into the bed with a moan, helpless beneath Harvey’s appreciative touch.

“You think I’m pretty,” he smiles into the pillow, rolling his hips, fucking the mattress as Harvey fondles his ass.

“You know you are.” Harvey takes his hand away and Mike calls out for it but doesn’t stop moving; moves faster, begs to be touched some more.

When Harvey’s fingers return they slide cool and slick between his ass cheeks, but Harvey doesn’t rush it; he massages him slowly with curious fingertips, circling, rubbing, promising him it’ll feel good; and then he pushes one long, slimy finger all the way inside.

“Oh,” Mike groans. “That feels kind of weird.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

So he keeps moving until they get a rhythm going and the more fingers Harvey puts in him the less weird it feels.

“Harvey,” he manages to say, his voice coming out shaky and strained. “I didn’t know you were...’ He shakes his head, deciding it’s not important, and fucks back onto Harvey’s hand instead.

“What?” Harvey removes his fingers and Mike swivels his head around to watch as Harvey reaches for a condom from the bedside table, tears open the wrapper with his teeth and rolls it down over his erection. There’s a small bottle of lube sitting on the bedside table as well and Harvey grabs it, slicks himself thoroughly, and then chucks it to the foot of the bed. “You didn’t know I was what?” He climbs in between Mike’s legs and positions himself so that the tip of his cock is resting against Mike’s asshole.

Mike takes a deep breath in. “I didn’t know you were this way inclined,”

Harvey chuckles between shallow breaths, pressing gently. “Sometimes,” he says. “You okay?” He leans over and kisses Mike’s shoulder blades, licks his neck. Pushes his hips forward.

Mike gasps.

“Am I hurting you?” It sounds as though Harvey can barely get the words out, and even if Mike were able to respond he’s not sure Harvey would listen, because he continues to push inside, slow and steady, the stretch so intense Mike’s mouth falls open and he forgets to breathe.

He hears Harvey whisper _oh fuck_ when he’s in Mike as deep as he can go, flush up against his ass and shuddering hard.

And then he moves. Small, slow thrusts at first, in deep and staying there, letting Mike get used the feeling of having a penis inside him, and the mild pain is subsiding as the head of Harvey’s cock rubs his prostate, sending waves of pleasure through his body, making him moan with each glorious plunge.

Harvey’s careful to keep his weight off the bruised side of Mike’s body, lengthening his thrusts but keeping them slow. They slide against each other, skin slippery with sweat, panting like animals.

It goes on and on. Mike has no idea how long they’ve been fucking but he’s impressed with Harvey’s stamina, although it’s probably to be expected, as Harvey is pretty old, and clearly very experienced. And while Mike doesn’t necessarily want it to stop, Harvey is getting a little bit more energetic behind him, a little less controlled, and he’s starting to hurt Mike just a little bit -- not his asshole which has become a surprising new source of exquisite pleasure -- but his bruised thigh, which is taking a hammering as Harvey ruts against him with increasing force.

Mike doesn’t say anything though, because the sex part still feels incredible and it’ll be over soon anyway.

Harvey thrusts his dick all the way inside Mike and stops suddenly, grunts, gasps, and lets out a long, shaky breath. He pulls out, he pushes in, holds himself inside again, extracts himself, and then collapses in a sodden heap beside a sore but blissed out Mike.

They don’t speak for the three minutes it takes for them both to catch their breath.

“Did I hurt you?”

Mike shakes his head. “Only a little,” he says, smiling at Harvey’s alarmed frown. “Don’t worry, I’m no sorer now than I was before we had sex. And it was so worth it. Holy shit. You really know what you’re doing, Harv.”

“Don’t call me Harv.”

“I may have some trouble walking tomorrow though. Just saying.”

Harvey snickers. “Take the day off. Stay here and rest.”

“I can’t take another day off work,” Mike replies, horrified at the very idea.

“You can and you will. I will explain what happened to Jessica and Louis, minus--” he waggles his fingers between the two of them, “--this part.”

“Really?” Mike says. “You’re not going to tell them we fucked? Why on earth not?”

“Shut up and go to sleep. I give you permission to sleep now.”

“Thanks, boss.”

The satisfied smile on Harvey’s face is a pretty sweet thing to see at the end of a long, weird day. “G’night, kid.”

Mike doesn’t have the energy to say goodnight so he kisses the air instead as he closes his eyes, and drifts into heavenly sleep.

Who’d have thought being hit by a car would end up feeling so good?


End file.
